


The Cow Jumped Over the Moon

by AppalachianApologies



Series: Appalachian's 2020 Whumptober [23]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Autism, Autism Spectrum, Autistic Spencer Reid, Caring Hotch, Dad Hotch, Emotional, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Spencer Reid, I love writing autistic spencer okay don't at me, Post-Episode: s01e06 L.D.S.K., Spencer Reid Whump, Whump, Whumptober 2020, as it turns out all i can write is dad hotch now so you know, but don't be weary of that tag as far as my emotional fics go this one isn't so bad, shrug, we've got ourselves a (dead) long distance serial killer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:42:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27163363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AppalachianApologies/pseuds/AppalachianApologies
Summary: At Spencer's age, he should be getting around nine hours of a sleep a night.He isn't.Day 23: Exhaustion
Series: Appalachian's 2020 Whumptober [23]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948174
Comments: 27
Kudos: 249
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	The Cow Jumped Over the Moon

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Hello! Okay! So, this fic was originally supposed to be really angsty and more whumpy and included Emily, but then my brain went, "ohohoho did i hear dad hotch?!?????" and this was born. also I feel like I kinda owed you guys after yesterday...  
> so  
> yeh  
> Sorry for all of these fics being really similar oof
> 
> Enjoy! :D

Logically, Spencer knew that he wasn’t getting enough sleep. He knows from a scientific standpoint that he should be getting about nine hours of sleep a night because, as much as he loathes to admit it, his brain is still developing at twenty-five. 

On a good day, Spencer gets around six hours of sleep, and can work perfectly. Sure, the copious amount of coffee helps, but the point is he gets by just fine. Besides, he knows for a fact that he’s getting more sleep than Gideon. And probably Morgan, based on the amount of days that he leaves the BAU to go straight to a bar.

But then all of his good days went away, replaced by a dark red dot on Philip Dowd’s forehead. 

It’s not so much the lack of sleep that’s been bothering him, but the fact that Spencer doesn’t know what to do with himself when he wakes up at 1 AM. He’s never been the type of man to be up in the middle of the night, so it feels odd for him. The last time he stayed up late enough to see his alarm clock read 2:00 was when he was finishing his first doctorate.

Now, Spencer has nothing to work on. He wakes with a sweaty brow, chest heaving, memories that will never fade. And he has no idea what to do.

For the first few nights, Spencer would pull up his mom’s old Margery Kempe, reading through words he had memorized years upon years ago. After the third night, Spencer switched to reading some Valentine poems, attempting to find hidden meanings he know doesn’t exist.

By the fourth night, Spencer brews coffee at a nice time around 2:30, knowing that if he doesn’t he’ll be stuck back in his hellish nightmares. 

He’s fine though. Like all of the other things he deals with, this will eventually go away, and Spencer will be fine.

At Morgan’s insistence (and broken promise), Spencer talked with Hotch, seated awkwardly in the older man’s office. It reminds Spencer of the amount of public school counselors he was forced to see. Like Hotch, they were always determined to find something in Spencer’s mind to explain him.

But Spencer will give Hotch credit. The Unit Chief gives Spencer good advice, or at least better than the shit the guidance counselors would tell him. Hotch actually listens to him, and is patient when Spencer stutters over his words, hands helping him talk. Hotch doesn’t get angry when he talks in obscure quotes, and Spencer’s grateful for that fact.

However, just like the counselors, Hotch can’t fix what’s wrong with Spencer.

On the fifth night, Spencer goes to the updated DSM, attempting to find a cause to his symptoms.

Spencer pushes away the thought that he’s just struggling mentally, and there’s nothing wrong. Because something’s wrong. Something has to be wrong.

He’s getting headaches and insomnia, and sometimes his hands even shake.

There has to be a reason for this, and Spencer will find it. Despite the fact that Spencer’s memorized the DSM five times over, he reads through it once more. Like reading Valentine, Spencer tries to find meanings between the lines.

He’s aware that certain literary techniques don’t work regarding non-fiction work.

When Spencer comes into work, the circles under his eyes look like bruises, so unlike his skin color.

They remind him of the times the other highschoolers would push him around. Spencer’s always bruised easily, which does nothing to help him look like an official FBI agent.

He doesn’t feel like one.

FBI agents aren’t supposed to wake in the middle of the night, screaming for a man who’s already dead, who in some people’s minds, probably deserved to die.

On the sixth packet of sugar, Morgan stops him.

“Reid, you’re gonna give yourself a heart attack with that,”

Mumbling, Spencer replies, “The caffeine is more likely to give me a heart attack than the sugar,” Before gulping down nearly half the cup, ignoring the scalding liquid slide down his throat.

Much to Spencer’s annoyance, Morgan follows him back down to his desk, where he perches on the edge. Giving the older man a nasty look, Spencer requests, “Please don’t sit on my desk,”

“What’s going on with you, Pretty Boy?” Morgan questions, effectively ignoring Spencer’s request.

Frowning, Spencer replies, “Nothing is going on with me. But you’re sitting on my desk, and I’d rather you not.”

With a sigh, Morgan hops off the desk, and pulls up a chair. If anything, this is worse, Being at eye level means that Spencer’s going to have to find a good excuse to avoid Morgan’s curious stares. Spencer knows that Morgan means the best for him, but he just can’t handle talking with anyone at the moment.

“C’mon, talk with me, Reid.”

Spencer presses his lips together. If there’s one thing he doesn’t want to do, it’s talk.

Taking another gulp of coffee, he warns, “I’m fine,”

“You don’t look fine,”

“I’m fine.” Spencer reiterates, sending his best nasty look. He feels guilty right after, he knows that Morgan doesn’t deserve this. All he wants to do is help, and Spencer’s blatantly avoiding the help.

Luckily for Spencer, Morgan seems to give up, at least for the time being. Standing up with a sigh, he leaves with one last piece of information, “Cool it with the sugar, kid. Can’t be too good for you.”

Spencer gives him a weak smile, before pulling up his paperwork from the last case. The case that didn’t involve him killing a person. Despite his best effort to not, Spencer shudders.

He’s killed a man.

Spencer has killed a human being.

Shaking his head, Spencer forces his eyes to focus on the paperwork in front of him. He’s already finished all of it, but he hasn’t quite found his place on the team, and Spencer doesn’t want to be the obnoxious agent that turns in their paperwork days before anyone else. After all, that’s what he was when he was a student.

His other teammates tolerate him, and Spencer knows that he has to keep it that way. If he starts acting like the know-it-all kid, he knows he’ll lose the friendships he’s worked so hard to gain. And if they see him as weak, Spencer knows that they won’t take him seriously as an agent, which means that no one else can know about his sleepless nights.

Spencer drinks more coffee, before he can quite literally feel his hands vibrating on his desk. Even then, his eyes still yearn to slip close.

After getting half the amount of sleep he usually does during the past week, Spencer’s running on fumes, and he knows it.

“Reid.”

Spencer’s head jerks up, eyes trying to find the source of the noise. It only takes a few moments for him to focus on Hotch, head sticking out of his office.

After pushing away the memories of highschool principals, Spencer stands up from his desk to go see Hotch. After a single step, he quickly turns to grab his messenger bag, slinging it around his shoulder, relaxing just a bit from the pressure of the strap.

When he gets inside Hotch’s office, Spencer gives him an awkward smile, still unsure of why he was called in. Maybe he has been a bad agent?

Spencer knew that Gideon could only get him so far, one day the FBI would realize that he’s not fit to be an agent.

“Reid, come sit down,” Hotch requests, motioning to the couch.

Feeling his heart speed up, Spencer complies, and slides his bag onto his lap. His fingers fiddle with his messenger strap, rubbing designs between his thumb and index finger. When he looks up and sees Hotch watching his hands, Spencer immediately forces them to still.

After a beat, Spencer blurts out, “Am I in trouble?” He instantly curses at how childish it sounds.

Shaking his head, Hotch answers, “No. Should you be?”

“Based one the FBI handbook and guidelines? No.” Spencer easily answers.

With a smile, Hotch continues, “Well then. You’re not in trouble.”

Spencer nods, fingers beginning to move once again. He looks down, focusing on his shoelaces which are tied around his ankles because they’re too long. The little plastic bits are fraying, and Spencer puts all of his brain power into thinking about them.

He’s violently pushed out of his thoughts when Hotch begins talking again. “Reid, how are you doing?”

Spencer’s fingers still for a fraction of a second, but when they continue his leg bounces with them as well. Taking a few moments to figure out exactly what Hotch means, Spencer thinks back to all of the other people in his life.

‘How are you,’ could mean Hotch is literally asking him about his feelings or emotions, but it could also be referring to his job at the FBI. It could be talking about his physical health as well, or even his mental health. There’s too many variables, and Spencer doesn’t know which one he should guess on.

He ends up settling on, “What?”

Frowning, Hotch explains, “You’ve been more spaced out the past week. Is there anything I should know about?”

‘Is there anything’ he should ‘know about’? That also has many meanings. It could be talking about Spencer’s physical or mental health, or he could be asking about Spencer’s family, which he most definitely doesn’t want to talk about. Hotch could also be referring to something within the FBI, perhaps the last case or maybe his relationships between the other agents.

“Know about what?”

“I know how hard the Dowd case hit you,” 

Spencer frowns, deciphering Hotch’s words. The case didn’t hit him. Dowd hit him. With a rifle. It’s an expression though, Spencer realizes. The case metaphorically hit him. “I’m okay.”

“Are you still getting nightmares?”

“Yes.” Spencer answers honestly.

Hotch sighs, but it’s not an angry sigh. Instead it’s a worried sigh. The last time Spencer heard one of those it was from Gideon, and the time he heard one before that was all of the way back to when he was nine years old from his dad. “Have you talked to anyone about it?”

“I told Morgan before the last case,” Spencer recites, “And he told you, and then you talked to me about it six days ago. Why?”

“What about the therapist I recommended?”

“I have not talked with her,”

“Have you considered it?”

‘It’ meaning the talking to the therapist, Spencer internally notes. “No.”

Hotch lets out another one of his sighs. Spencer is suspicious of his sighs at this point. He’s sure that there’s a deeper meaning that he just doesn’t understand. It’s more frustrating than he thinks it has a right to be.

“Have you been able to sleep through the night?” When Spencer doesn’t answer, Hotch tries again, “How many hours of sleep have you been getting?”

Clearing his throat, Spencer recites, “The average male between the ages of seventeen to twenty-five should get between nine and eleven hours of sleep each night, as they’re in the final stage of brain development.”

“And how many of those hours do you get?”

Spencer’s leg bounces, and he doesn’t respond. When Hotch glances at his leg, Spencer immediately stops bouncing.

“You can stim, Spencer,” Hotch replies, which catches the younger man’s attention. He’s referred to by his first name.

Spencer clenches his jaw and nods, but doesn’t continue.

Undeterred, Hotch reiterates, “You can stim. I don’t mind. And if anyone bothers you about it you can always tell me, okay?”

Spencer nods again.

“Do you want to tell me what you’re having nightmares about?”

No. The answer is no, but Spencer shrugs instead.

Nodding, Hotch questions, “What if I ask, and you either nod yes or no?”

After thinking about it for a second, Spencer agrees. He nods.

“Is it about Dowd?”

A nod.

“Is it about Dowd’s death?”

Spencer nods slowly. Linguistically, it’s interesting how Hotch refers to Dowd. He uses a passive voice, as if Spencer wasn’t the one to pull the trigger and murder a man.

Taking not much of a wild guess, Hotch confirms, “Is it about killing Dowd?”

A nod.

“Do you feel guilty?”

Spencer purses his lips. He’s not actually sure. Spencer knows that if he didn’t pull the trigger, Dowd would’ve killed him, Hotch, and countless innocent people and patients. Still, he should’ve been able to talk him down.

Interrupting his thoughts, Hotch muses, “It’s okay to feel guilty, you know. Even if it was necessary.”

Spencer sends him a look. Did Hotch just read his mind?

“It’s a hard feeling to deal with,” Hotch continues, “But a necessary one. And it’s necessary to deal with it if you want to stop your nightmares.”

Nodding, Spencer confirms, “The average male between the ages of seventeen to twenty-five should get between nine and eleven hours of sleep each night, as they’re in the final stage of brain development.”

Hotch smiles at him. “Is that your way of saying you need beauty rest?”

Spencer smiles back, before hunching over his arms, tightening and loosening his fingers. It’s not exactly the stim he wants, but it’s better than nothing.

“I was twenty-eight when I first killed an unsub,” Hotch suddenly announces, causing Spencer to look up at him. “And although I don’t have a memory like you do, I can still see it as if it was yesterday.”

Spencer nods in understanding, urging Hotch to continue.

“And I still think about it,” Hotch admits. “But I also think about all of the other people I saved because of it. I think of the mothers that could’ve been possible victims, and I think of the families that weren’t torn apart because of what I did.”

“Dowd had twenty four hostages,” Spencer quietly murmurs.

“And without you, there could’ve been twenty-four dead hostages.” Hotch finishes, trying to make eye contact with an agent that desperately doesn’t want to.

Taking a deep breath in and out, Spencer concludes, “If I didn’t shoot and kill Dowd, he could’ve killed twenty-four hostages, and then you and me.” Hotch nods, but now that Spencer’s spoken, he’s on a roll. “Do you think I could’ve talked him down without the gun?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Hotch replies quickly, much to Spencer’s surprise. “What’s happened has happened. And I know how hard it is to try and move on, but until a time machine is invented, we can’t change the past. You did the best thing you could’ve in the circumstances.”

“I didn’t want it to end like that.”

“I know.” Hotch agrees. “But sometimes we can’t get the best outcome.”

Spencer frowns. “I hate that.”

“Me too.”

“I hate that a lot,” Spencer reiterates, letting his body rock back and forth. “I hate that a lot.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys are ready for more autistic Spencer with Dad Hotch, because that's e x a c t l y what tomorrow's is going to be...
> 
> ANYWAY. I'm going to end the voting thing on my NaNoWriMo soon so I have some time to map out and plan the plot and all the fun stuff that I didn't do during Whumptober, and so if you'd like to see a certain thing from me for NaNo, come let me know on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/appalachianapologies) (AppalachianApologies) if you'd like! And just in general, I'm always so down to meet new people :D
> 
> _  
> _I love you all very much, and I hope you all are doing okay. If you find yourself in a bad or scary situation, here are some hotlines (Please keep in mind that the written out numbers are US hotlines)_  
>  _
> 
> _  
> _National Suicide Hotline: 1-800-273-8255  
>  National Sexual Assault Hotline: 1-800-656-4673  
> National Domestic Violence Hotline: 1-800-799-7233_  
>  _
> 
> __  
> _If you don't live in America and need someone to talk to, here's a list of[international hotlines.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_suicide_crisis_lines)  
> You are not alone, and I love you all <3_
> 
> _  
> _Much love to all of you, and take care until tomorrow!! <3__  
> 


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